The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
by Viv1
Summary: He doesn’t tell her – not for a long time at least – that she’s somehow become his best friend." How Daniel and Betty's friendship changes through the years, from Daniel's POV. Spoilers to Episode 3.09.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **"The Good, the Bad and the Ugly"**  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 4,311  
Characters: Daniel/Betty  
Summary: "He doesn't tell her – not for a long time at least – that she's somehow become his best friend." How Daniel and Betty's friendship changes and transitions through the years, from Daniel's POV.  
Spoilers: Everything to 3.06, AU after that.  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, just borrowing. All ABC's and UB creators. I am playing so do not sue me, please.  
Author's Notes: Hello from a newbie, my humble first offering to the Detty fandom. I've written for other shows of course, but it really took me a while to get going with Detty. I really like the direction Detty is going at the moment though, which kicked my muse into gear. I'm eager to get feedback on how accurately (or not) the characterisations are.

**The Good, the Bad and the Ugly**

**by Viv**

**~ I ~**

They've seen each other at their best and worst; at the crest of the highest highs and at the dip of the lowest lows.

Well, for him anyway. Daniel Meade doesn't remember a time when, even at her lowest, Betty didn't come out on the other side smelling of roses and something different, something unique. Something _her_.

He doesn't tell her – not for a long time at least – that she's somehow along way become his best friend. Who would have believed it all those years ago when his dad had force-fed her into his life?

Not his father certainly, even if he had been the architect of the greatest innovation in the history of Daniel's life; had the lucky foresight to inject the rationality and brilliance otherwise known as Betty Suarez.

She's eating a cream cheese bagel at the moment, eyes shining in pure joy at the taste. Gives him a happy wave through the window that serves as a notional partition between Co-Chief Editor and Personal Assistant, boss and employee, and even in this moment of rare introspection Daniel can't help but give a tiny smile back.

The glass is as transparent and flimsy as reality, because if he has anything to tell her she'll know anyway and come rushing in; if she wants to tell him something he somehow knows, is able to straighten and brace for the shock of hurricane Betty on her latest quest to make the world a better place seconds before it decides to arrive in a flurry of kaleidoscopic colour.

He likes his life at the moment, can say for the first time he's finally putting his past behind him. His mother's not in jail, he and Wilhelmina have a strange, truce-like period of inactivity that's lasted more than a day and he's finally able to espouse an opinion on a layout without feeling insecure about it. He's even somewhat reconciled to the birth of his half-brother; the little guy can't help who his mother is just as Daniel can't help who his father was.

He visits DJ in France when he can; they still have a bond although that's beginning to fray a little at the edges. And if news of Alexis moving closer to DJ and his grandparents bothers Daniel just a little too much, he powers over the trough with some good old fashioned drowning himself in work.

In short, life is good. Stable. Quiet. But not boring.

Betty finishes her bagel and he can tell in a moment or two she's going to rush in with a list of things on his to-do list that _must _be done by the end of today.

He straightens, and braces for the onslaught.

*****

He remembers all too vividly the day she quits her job.

He's devastated of course. Knew this day would come eventually; he had never expected her to be his assistant for the rest of her life. She's too bright, too smart and too talented for him to want that.

But still. When it comes, he isn't prepared. Has no time to brace and the full shock of it leaves him incapable of forming the right words at the crucial juncture.

"Daniel? Are you … please say something. Are you okay with this?" She's anxious and worried and just like Betty, she's concerned about him when by rights she should be overjoyed at starting the next phase in her life. She's still going to be at Meade Publications, still going to work in the same building. They'll run into each other in the lift and she probably will still be thoughtful enough to have a cinnamon twist (or two) for him. He imagines she'll still want to drop by now and then to talk about stuff. What kind of 'stuff' he can't fathom at the moment but he anchors to that thought and suddenly he's able to function again.

But it won't be the same and they both know it. It's the end of an era; same Betty, new job, new life.

And then it hits him.

Daniel doesn't know whether he'll be okay without her to manage his life for him.

Which is stupid and absurd. He's a grown man, he shouldn't need her to manage anything for him, let alone the sum total of his life. But she's more than just his assistant of course; everyone knows it. Maybe he hadn't known it for a while but he certainly does now. She's seen him through the good, the bad and the ugly and still wants to be his friend.

That's real friendship; even an emotionally stunted dunce like Daniel recognises that.

He opens and closes his mouth one last time; beginning to draw his thoughts together now into some form of coherence. Aims for a careful but not-nonchalant tone. "Of _course _I am Betty." He needs the emphasis to convince himself, maybe. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve it." His voice softens involuntarily and yes, he really does feel it this time, he really is happy for her. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you Daniel. Thank you for being so wonderful about this."

He stands, finds her already there in front of him and wraps her in a hug. She's conditioned him to giving hugs now, although he'll never be as free with them as she is. He is a man, after all.

He decides he likes how her eyes shine when she's happy. He's genuinely happy for her and is proud he's thinking of someone else besides himself for once (if the latter thought negates the former he ignores it).

He doesn't know why the look in her eyes makes his stomach bubble with warmth, but it does. He puts it down to the chilli he had at lunch.

*****

Daniel is more relieved than he can express when Betty continues to fly into his office unannounced even after she's moved out of his professional life. He rather enjoys her visits although he sometimes pretends he doesn't welcome the interruption; it's hard to tell whether she buys his grumpy early morning façade sometimes.

The first time they purposely have lunch together, it's in a small, homespun diner a few blocks from the office. He guesses it's a milestone of sorts that he's going out of his way to clear time in his schedule to have lunch with her; the distinction is important although if anyone asked, he wouldn't have been able to tell them why.

He doesn't know the diner, not that he's surprised at his lack of knowledge. For someone born and bred in Manhattan he's lived a pretty insular existence. All soirees and parties and the rich and the famous, but never the simpler pleasures that can be derived from life.

It's then that he realises; it's what he has Betty for. To introduce him to the smaller things that would otherwise make a person's life whole. Those small pleasures like finding the perfect hot dog, the smell of New York on a bright summer's day, snowfall in Manhattan against a clear night sky. The smaller moments that only mean something when he takes the time to really smell the roses, even if it's accompanied by the smell of exhaust fumes as well.

He manages to not make a face at the sight of the ramshackle chairs, the linoleum seemingly plastered to every available surface. He's less successful when he notices a rather dark brown blotch on the upholstery where he's supposed to sit.

"Relax Daniel, the place is perfectly clean."

He feigns offence; knows she's rolling her eyes even as he takes his coat off. "I wasn't thinking that. Give me a little credit, Betty."

She makes a 'whatever' face but drops the subject. Soon she's talking happily about her new job and life and writing and potential sort of maybe could be love interest – which cracks Daniel up because it's just like her to say 'love interest' rather than boyfriend or cute guy – and then she's looking at him with a slight sense of wonder.

It makes him self-conscious, it always does. "What?"

"No, it's just …" She's flustered, a little flushed even. "Do you realise it's the first time we've had lunch? I mean, as friends? Real friends? Not as boss and assistant – not that I don't count those, I do – but yeah. Friends. We're _doing _lunch. How cool is that?"

He almost smiles; almost. Makes sure his face is perfectly straight. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, I have. And I think it's _amazing_. We're transitioning, Daniel! From boss and assistant. Isn't that cool?"

She beams, and he smiles. Well, he's beaming inside too, just like she is on the outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**~ II ~**

"So, notice anything different about me today?"

He glances at Betty standing in his office, avoids wincing at the clash of colours, a veritable kaleidoscope of wrongness for the current season and a crime against originality.

What? He's the Chief Editor of a major national fashion magazine; he has to retain a smidgeon of shallowness in order to gauge the fashion temperature of the general populace. And in his professional opinion, the temperature on Betty is – freezing.

"Ah … you bought new glasses?"

"No, Daniel." He can tell she's only pretending to be irritated. He realises he likes how he can tell reality and pretence apart. "Look harder."

He does look, _really_ look. Her smile is bright today, much brighter than usual which is saying something. Her hair is a touch unruly, but that's not new.

He looks, hard. "Did you … do something to your teeth?" The fact that he tacks on a question mark tells her all she needs to know.

"Okay, that's close enough." She sighs but he knows, again, that she's only feigning. He wonders whether there will come a day when he _doesn't _know. "Never let it be known that I don't give second chances." She smiles, and it's all teeth and brightness and light.

It's only then – that's right, it's taken him _this _long – to notice that her braces are gone.

"Betty, your braces!"

She leaps in delight and he swears she's clapping too. "I know! Wow, right? I thought I'd never get them off. But look how straight they are now. See? And it's all straight and everything!"

She runs to the mirror, checks her perfectly straight teeth out. Why he has a mirror in his office is anyone's guess. He forgets that he does like to do his share of preening, too.

Daniel does look then, and sees everything. The absence of metal makes her smile brighter, even though he didn't think it was possible before. Wonders what other things he had thought impossible are in fact, possible, if only he looks hard enough.

He realises then, that being around Betty tends to open his eyes to the impossible. He only needs to think about his life, and how much difference this one person has made to it. It makes his knees weak at the power he's involuntarily given.

She's still chatting away merrily about all the things she can eat now, freed from the thought of metal on teeth.

Finally she tears herself away from the mirror, comes to stand in front of his desk. "I'm sorry Daniel, I completely didn't come here to tell you about my braces. I just need to get these signed for Stacey and then I'll be on my way. We need to get these expenses cleared before our shoot with Gerard Butler next week so she can take him to dinner and – yeah." She slides a stack of invoices toward him for signature.

He shakes his head; a wholly inadequate response. "That's okay Betty." He leans forward, gathers the papers toward him. Pauses in the act of rearranging them, firstly because it's Betty and she knows exactly how he likes to order things and two – well, two –

"You look great, Betty. You really do."

"I know, right?" He swears she would be jumping in excitement if professional etiquette had allowed it. "I want to bite into a banana and not get it stuck in my teeth!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious. It makes him want to eat a banana, too.

*****

Another year passes and it's her birthday again. He's come a long way from the first couple of years when his self-centredness and – let's face it – personal and family drama got in the way of him actually doing something meaningful about his friend's birthday.

He wants this year to be different and so he makes a gesture, a real one. No more plastic trophies from the drug store, ad hoc office celebrations after the fact or accidental drunken rampages that they conveniently glossed over the next day. Daniel Meade has turned over a new leaf and boy is that leaf green and unsure about what he's expected to give to someone who's done so much for him.

(She's done a lot for his family too, but he's pretty sure it's been mostly for him.)

He's invited to the Suarez's and if truth be told, he hardly ever passes on Ignacio's invitations anymore. The days of him feigning reluctance at intruding on private celebrations are well past.

"Daniel, it's like this." Ignacio had told him the last time he had hesitated, putting his arms around Daniel's shoulders that reminded him of the child he had been, yearning for just such a fatherly touch. "You and Betty are friends. My daughter's friends are always welcome to my house."

Well, it's certainly true they're friends. Why she still wants his friendship he has no idea but Daniel isn't about to look a gift horse or any other animal in the mouth.

He arrives at the Suarez's humble abode in good time; he had cheated and taken the town car but he's pretty sure it won't count against him in her eyes.

He's greeted by Ignacio, as warm and welcoming as ever; by Justin who wants to show him his latest Broadway audition routine, by Gio who's busy fixing his famous sandwiches (what else) in the kitchen and by Hilda, who's every bit as bright as her sister and just as colourful.

"Where's Betty?" He looks around, takes in the warmth, the comfort of their home. It's a real home, housing real memories and real childhoods and he feels the familiar, envious pang reverberate inside him. He had told Betty once how jealous he had been of her family. The Suarezes were not the Meades to be sure, but they were a real family. He wasn't sure he could say the same for the Meades.

"Oh Daniel, that's just silly." She had responded matter of factly. "I've seen just how much Mrs Meade and Alexis love you. Your childhood may have been … _different _… but you know your family loves you and that's what really matters at the end of the day."

Of course she had been right. She almost always is.

Ignacio offers him empanadas and Hilda is rattling away about how well her salon is going while handing him a beer and Justin is limbering up in the corner, preparing to show Daniel his routine. It's like a circus, but fun.

He kicks back against the counter with beer in hand, forgets for just a moment that DJ is in France and he has no one to celebrate the next Christmas with if his mom decides to join Alexis in France.

Not that he needs to worry; one word from Betty and he'll be back helping Justin bedazzle Christmas ornaments in an instant.

He's only roused from his daydreams by the onset of loud, brash music of Justin's routine. He becomes so engrossed – in his defence they all do – that he only notices part way through that Betty's standing at the foot of the stairs, head cradled in her hands, leaning against banister, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Had she been standing there this whole time?

After Justin's routine they eat. It's a comfortable family affair and Daniel finds himself balancing his food precariously on his knees while trying not to sink into the slightly lumpy couch.

"Thanks for coming." One minute she's talking to Gio and the next she's sitting next to him, plate in hand like she'd always been there. Maybe she has and he hasn't noticed, until now.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it." She's caught him with a mouthful of empanada.

"Well, I'm glad you came Daniel. It means a lot to me. You know, like the lunch thing did."

She doesn't need to elaborate, because she knows he understands. Which gratifies him but there's no way he can express it beyond a pursed smile.

"Okay, presents!" It's Hilda's call so her present is first in line, which turns out to be a set of heated rollers so Betty could 'set her hair while having breakfast'. Next comes Ignacio with two precious diaries that he had found in the attic, written by Betty's mom at Betty's age today which reduces her to tears, but Gio's 'free sandwiches for life' voucher (complete with happy Betty face) and Justin's specially composed Ode to Aunt Betty which he vows to sing on Broadway someday soon brings a smile back to her face again.

When it's his turn, Daniel decides that the whole opening presents while everyone watches thing is a sucky idea. He's never had a problem with it before.

"Okay, open Daniel's." Compared to her family's personal presents, his effort suddenly seems callous, impersonal even. But there's no turning back because she's already unwrapping it with the air of a child given extra cookies from the cookie jar.

She tears the gift wrap off to reveal a long velvet box. Luckily he had forgone his usual at Tiffany's because truth be told, Betty was not the usual and he didn't want her to think he had asked Amanda or another of the Mode girls to get this for him. It's somehow important that she know this was a result of entirely his own efforts.

She's holding the box gingerly in her hands, like it's apt to shatter apart at any moment. "It's ah, jewellery." But not romantic jewellery, he wants to add. But he doesn't because, well … it goes without saying.

Betty opens the box and he really wants to flee. Has no idea why it's suddenly so awkward but yeah, it's awkward..

She stares at his gift, a glittering necklace with a diamond dolphin hanging at the end. It's small and tasteful but he had chosen it over brasher, shinier counterparts because it reminded him of her even if he can't exactly put it into words why that was, or is, the case.

He's only assured that she likes it when she gasps, heart in her eyes. "It's beautiful Daniel, it's … _beautiful_." She hugs him impulsively, hard and tight, and he can't breathe for the happiness rising in him.

When she finally lets him go, he's surprised to catch Ignacio's pensive gaze. Doesn't know why but it makes him uneasy.

*****

They meet for one of their now regular Wednesday night dinners, because Wednesday fits best with both their schedules and it's hard enough trying to tee up a time for himself to eat a proper meal, let alone with another person.

But Daniel enjoys their routine and actually finds himself making mental lists of things to tell Betty during the week. It's a practice he begins to find odd, and disconcerting.

Discombobulation and uncertainty dissipate when she's around though and since she's become the trusted voice of his conscience, he never gets around to questioning himself too deeply.

Tonight she'd left a message with the maitre d' saying she'd be late, something about work and articles and deadlines and yeah, he's heard most of it before and so doesn't bother trying to decipher it all. As usual he only catches every second word when she's speaking in super turbo mode but he's reasonably sure the message consisted of her only going to be a few minutes late and for him to order himself a drink at the table and not the bar because she'll only be a few minutes and yeah, something like that.

He's only just been seated himself when she rushes into the restaurant in a whirlwind, scarf slightly askew. She plonks her laptop and handbag on the floor and wrestles with the waiter who tries to take her coat to the coat room with dignity.

This time, he notices the change right away. "Betty!"

In hindsight, Daniel acknowledges that he perhaps could have hidden the incredulity in his voice a bit better. But in his defence – well, she's surprised him, that's all.

"Yes, Daniel?"

He gestures, Neanderthal-like. "Your glasses."

She purses her lips, manages to make a non-committal sound while ordering sparkling mineral water. Now _that's _talent.

"Ah …" He struggles to hide the smile breaking over his features. He knows she can't resist his smile. "Your glasses. They're gone."

Gone too are the days of her blind worship of his sophistication because well, she had seen too much and he isn't that sophisticated a sophisticate anyway. He's frankly surprised she hadn't seen through him sooner.

"Yes Daniel, they _are_. I thought it was time for a change." The waiter arrives with her glass of water, sets it gently down between them before sidling away again. She reaches and takes a sip, eyes never leaving his face.

Daniel is so unusually self-conscious right now it isn't funny.

"So what do you think? About my contacts."

"Oh, you're wearing contacts! I was wondering whether you could see properly." He responds guilelessly (but rather stupidly), examining her face watching his in an endless dance for two. "It looks good. I mean, you look good. Without your glasses. They don't, you know ..." He waits for a rescue party that never comes. "You know what I'm trying to say, Betty."

She rolls her eyes. "Um, since when have I become a mind reader?"

He finishes his glass of merlot, forgets to give it a swirl before draining the last drop. He needs more wine.

"Okay, fine. They don't obstruct your face, people can see your eyes. You look good, without the glasses." He realises that maybe this isn't enough; decides he should just say what he's really thinking in case she can't tell. "You look good, Betty. Your eyes, they're really … I like it."

He sees her features brighten, sunlight streaming through mist on a summer's day. He makes a mental note to tell the truth more often. "So, you like it? You really like it?"

He nods, really thirsty. Does he like her new look?

Well, yeah.

"I do, Betty. I really do."

She beams, and all is right with his world again. She starts telling him about her day, about articles and deadlines that weren't met and her editor Stacy's run in with a crazy politico and it's really just a typical day at work for Betty. He asks the usual questions, counters her banter with some of his, enters into a lively discussion about who the next President should be and yeah, it's just a typical Wednesday night dinner.

But all the while Daniel watches her. Realises just how warm her chocolate brown eyes are, how bright and full of life. Wonders whether that's what her soul really looks like because, well, even he knows that a person's eyes are a window to their soul.

_Author's note: Thanks to everyone's feedback! I'm much more confident about posting the rest of this now, although it'll be a few days before I get to post the next part I think. Hope everyone enjoys it. _


	3. Chapter 3

**~ III ~**

Days melt into weeks and then months; women come and go in his life but the stalwarts remain. His mother, as blunt and determined as ever, and Alexis, who decides her skills as both a former man and former attempted murderer would best be suited to owning a vineyard in Bordeaux (hey, at least he can stock the Meade cellars full of Meade Merlot now).

And of course, Betty, former assistant and now (best) friend extraordinaire.

It's not Wednesday but their schedules mysterious shift and clear this week and she decides she's going to take him out for a night on the town, courtesy of her promotion.

He had laughed and said he wouldn't be a cheap date, then promptly clamped his mouth shut. Covers it quite cleverly (he thinks) by asking whether he should be dressed up or down.

She murmurs, says she's sure he'll look just fine and she only stipulates that he doesn't wear the black on black ensemble he's become so fond of these days. She thinks he should go back to wearing his brightly coloured ties and shirts like he used to, which he promises to do tonight.

It was only after he had hung up that it strikes him how she murmurs now; it's something the younger, chirpier Betty wouldn't have done. But they're both a few years older and Daniel supposes he's doing a lot of things the younger him wouldn't have been caught dead doing, too.

They meet on schedule and she stuns him with yet another change. Just when he had thought she'd surprised him for the last time, she does it again.

"Do you like it?" Graciously, she pretends not to notice his open mouthed stare, which is regrettably both ungracious and ungraceful and Daniel isn't given to buffonism usually. "Daniel?"

It definitely is a change and boy, is it a doozy. "Betty, your hair –"

"Yes?"

She's cut it short, much shorter than he has ever seen it. It's less frizzy but short, really short; svelte but much too sharp for her features. It's sort of half-way between a pixie cut and well, something else, something he doesn't care to think about because he's pretty sure it doesn't belong to this decade, let alone the last season.

"Ah …" He's not sure how he feels about it – oh who is he kidding, he hates it. Why he cares at all is anyone's guess. "Ah … it's nice Betty. Sort of."

In retrospect he knows that tacking the last two words to that sentence is not his finest hour. Her eyes well and he thinks she's about to cry, but instead her eyes fire with uncharacteristic fury and she starts ranting. He's heard her rants many times before but of course they're almost never directed at him, so he finds it a bit disconcerting to be the subject of said rants.

He listens docilely, Betty railing at how unsupportive he can be sometimes, how insensitive and yeah, he has the sensitivity of a tea spoon sometimes and in a contest between the stupid tea spoon and stupid him she's pretty sure the tea spoon would win. How come every time he's done something stupid she stands right by him even though he can be the stupidest person alive but when it's her turn his sensitivity hightails it out of dodge and runs the other way?

He shakes his head, completely at a loss. He thinks it's unfair of her to forget about the (few) times he did in fact display sensitivity more befitting of a well adjusted person, but she's angry and probably more than a little hurt and yeah, she's entitled to be irrational if she needs to. He can be an ass sometimes and self-centered to boot, but he can't help it and the only thing is to listen patiently and hope she calms down, soon.

She's still ranting, and livid. Gone are the days of her unceasing congeniality; she's more likely to get fired up now and stand up for herself which he secretly likes. The standing up for herself part, especially when it's not directed at him.

She's changed her hair; he of all people should know what a big decision that is for her. She hasn't done it for her own amusement. (He wants to object and point out she definitely _has _done it for her own amusement but who is he to judge anyway? Wisely, he decides to keep this to himself.) He of all people should know what a huge decision it is for her; she's grown and changed on the inside and now she's ready to start on the outside and can Daniel please say something nice about her hair because although she's an adult and knows this isn't a life and death, at this moment _it's all about the hair _and how about putting that famous Meade charm to good use once in a while with her?

"I think it really suits you Betty."

He tries to sound sincere but it's too little, too late. She narrows her eyes and stomps off into a dull sunset, leaving Daniel stranded, at a complete loss for words.

* * * * *

It isn't until her hair grows out to a softer, medium length that Betty decides to forgive him for his "typically insensitive man-like behaviour" and she agrees to have dinner with him, again.

He expects it will be a nice one because he's paying but it's worth it. At least it's no longer hair dryers at dawn between them. Not that Daniel uses a hair dryer (that often).

Betty's bangs have grown out (thankfully) and no longer hinder the sparkle in her eyes or the softness of her features.

(What? He's still the titular Co-Chief Editor of Mode; he has to notice these things. It's an occupational hazard.)

She suggests the pizzeria they've become so fond of, a small place in Brooklyn where she had first taken him and forced him to sing karaoke to get half off their meal (looking back he still isn't sure how she cajoled him into it. He's rich, he doesn't _need _to sing for his food. And his voice is terrible; they should give him half off in return for not singing).

After they're seated at a table with the familiar red and white chequered tablecloth, she begins to make him understand why the hair style change hadn't really been about the hair but was really about a whole other issue which incidentally, he had failed to see.

Of course it had been. Daniel is truly too stupid to live sometimes.

"Don't you see, Daniel, I'm changing. I've been changing for such a long time with my job and my life and my apartment, and then I get this huge promotion and everything changed and suddenly I had all this responsibility and this whole other_ life_. And then I realised – I'm different now, I've changed. I was comfortable with who I was but one day I looked into the mirror and I didn't see me. I saw the younger Betty who was wide eyed about the big city and who looked up to you – not that I don't now, but it's different and in a completely different way – I don't know, I'm not saying this right. I just felt like something had to change, to be me again. Or to be the me that I am now … "

Of course he understands, although privately he rather liked the younger Betty who looked up to him.

" … I didn't know what I wanted to change. I just knew I had to change _something_. It was either the hair or my apartment and I figured the hair would be easier to manage if, you know, anything went wrong. At least it'd grow out."

She smiles, just to show how completely over it she is. It's only then he's able to relax, and smile.

He decides he hasn't appreciated this side of Betty enough; her giving nature that allows her to be completely hurt and angry, but then gives her the courage to turn around and open herself to him again.

Her explanation makes sense to him, but Daniel finds himself wanting, needing to make sure she's only done it for the right reasons. What a wrong reason is he doesn't know.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way. I support you, I really do Betty. I hope you know I'll always be here to support you. I just want to make sure you didn't feel like … you know …" For a magazine editor he's sure awful with words. "… like you had to change to fit in. Because you don't. You're beautiful as you are. And … I know you've dealt with a lot of people wanting you to change your appearance and I was worried they'd finally gotten to you. And I wouldn't want that to happen ... to you."

She rolls her eyes but lets him fumble on, a train wreck in extreme slow motion.

"I think it's great. Change is good. But you don't need to change the outside, because if there's one thing I've learned it's that how a person looks is the least important part of someone and …" He trails off, taking a large gulp from his wine. "God, help me out here Betty. You know what I'm trying to say, don't you?"

She cracks another smile and he doesn't know whether it's the wine or something else, but the warmth that washes over him is just a little too giddy for his liking. "That's really sweet, Daniel, it really is. But this isn't about what looks good or doesn't look good, it's about me. I feel like … I can't explain it, but I feel more me than I've felt in a long time. I feel like I'm in the right skin now. Does that make sense?"

Daniel doesn't say any more about the subject; one look at her reassures him and tells him everything he needs to know.

He files the conversation away and finds himself revisiting it more than a few times in the next couple of days; the talk of change and appearances fascinates him for some reason although for the life of him he can't fathom why.


	4. Chapter 4

**~ IV ~**

Another day, another lunch, although strictly speaking it isn't that often they're free at this time of day and besides, Daniel shouldn't get into the habit of taking these things for granted.

He's been on a kick about appreciating more of the 'normal' things in life, which curiously stemmed from a conversation with Alexis the other week. She had somehow pressed upon him the need to stop and smell the roses so to speak, and not let life fly by in a haze of work, money and women.

Which was astronomically ironic given the speechmaker and the speechmakee, but he's the first to admit that a lot of things have changed in the last few years and if his reformed attempted murdering sister/brother tells him it's time to take a whiff then yeah, he will.

So he resolves to not take his family or friends for granted ever again. No more (or not as many, let's be realistic here) nights spent couped up in his office going through advertising budgets with his sales team, no more staring at the Book at odd times during the night tossing between layouts because he needs to keep Mode and his business as fresh and exciting as possible and crucially, no more women he can't bring home to his mom (or not as many, he's still Daniel Meade, still making the too obvious choices in his typical man-like way).

So now he's busy smelling roses, and making time in his calendar to see his friend on a gorgeous fall day in New York is about as rosy as it can get.

The lunch hour is usually his busiest these days; nobody besides other CEOs really understand how gruelling it is to constantly have working lunches, to wine and dine and stand out from the crowd because the sum total of his job is to make an impression and garner trust from backers and colleagues alike. He's under constant pressure to be visible, to be seen, an unrealistic expectation for anyone who isn't a Claire Meade or Fey Summers.

Needless to say no one, not even Betty, feels sorry for him when he complains about marathon Michelin star dinners, all in the name of a hard days work.

But today he's rearranged a working lunch because Betty had called and asked whether he was free to talk. He'd told Amanda to take an early lunch; she was gone without him saying another word and yeah, it's almost predestined the way these things happen.

Everyone wins, which in his book is definitely a hard days work done right.

They have hot dogs on a bench near Central Park and although the day is a little chilly, the air is crisp and clear. The small children and dog walkers with dogs running around in the middle of the day always remind him a little of what life would be like if he had a family; he suppresses a sigh because let's face it, as much as he wants (or needs) a family of his own he's nowhere near ready enough to be a father.

Besides, he still needs to find the right girl. For a serial womaniser, Daniel's surprisingly traditional that way.

He asks Betty how she is and they make small talk while finishing their hot dogs in the sun. They stroll for a while around the edge of the park; it's all nice and comfortable and his roses right now are smelling really sweet.

He briefly considers lying down on the grass and taking a nap until Betty rather abruptly stops and, apropos of not much, tells him she's decided to end things with David, a freelance nature photographer who Daniel had met more than a few times and secretly thought had been anointed by Betty as The One.

Fortuitously (or not), he's just broken up with Alesha, an investment banker who had admitted that when push came to shove, she would always put her job first. He had refused to be shoved on the grounds he actually wanted more than a part-time girlfriend and well, that had been that.

(As far as reasons for a break up goes, Daniel is proud to say it's one of his more rational, mature moments.)

But it's not about him at the moment; it's about Betty and so he turns his attention back onto her.

She's not sad exactly but he can tell she's upset and what's more, consumed by worry about hurting David's feelings. When she's like this, being so considerate, Daniel can't help but wish some of her compassion would rub off onto him (it'd make him a much better person, but there he goes thinking about himself again).

He tells her all the things he knows she wants to hear. Tells her not because they aren't true but because they are; that she's caring and loyal and David's a good guy, he'll understand that she doesn't feel exactly the same way about him. This is all for the best. She's too good a person to lead someone on and now that she knows he isn't the one for her she's doing the honourable thing and ending it before it gets too far.

She knows, but he can tell by the way her shoulders are hunching that she's still miserable about it. She's beginning to shrink into herself, withdraw like a wounded animal which isn't a good sign as far as Daniel's concerned. He saw it before with Henry and Jesse and that other guy she really adored but who he can't name at the moment and he really doesn't want her to feel that crushed about anything, or anyone, ever again.

She glances at her watch and sighs; comments in a forlorn, small voice that they should be getting back to work.

He places a comforting arm around her shoulders, looks down into her eyes. "It's going to be okay Betty."

"I know." She looks down at the ground, sighs again. "It's just … you know. I hate feeling like this."

"I know." And he does, he really does. He sees and understands a lot when it comes to Betty.

He gives her a quick hug, not perfunctory in the slightest but he's pleased to see her spirits pick up as a result. She even manages a tiny smile and if she notices that she's grabbed onto his hand and is holding it tightly, she doesn't let on.

Neither does he, because it's no big deal. It's only afterwards that he realises she doesn't let go until they part ways at his town car, ready to drive him back to work.

* * * * *

Daniel examines himself critically in the town car, satisfied by the image he sees. Black tux, bow tie, perfect hair, even if it is blowing slightly in the wind (but he's reasonably sure he's put enough gel in to compensate for the wind factor).

He admits he can be a tad vain, although he's glad the sheer amount of time he spends preening is a closely guarded secret. Unfortunately, there's at least one person who shares this secret and tonight he's not looking forward to seeing how much time Betty will spend teasing him about it.

Well, if she takes the teasing too far he'll just have to remind her that he's only coming as a favour to her, being how she's less a "plus one" now after David. Although he doubts he'll actually tease her about it; he knows she's still vulnerable and even an emotional tea spoon like Daniel knows it's not the most sensitive thing to do.

Although it is a major sacrifice on his part. They're going to a climate change gala that her magazine is partly sponsoring and which Betty helped put together, so no guesses what the speeches will be about tonight.

God, climate change. He's as green as the next rich guy who pretends to care about the environment but honestly, he _hates_ speeches and all the ornamental hypocrisy that comes with it.

So he's careful to liquor up as soon as they hit traffic. Not that he's going to go overboard with it, the last thing he wants is to embarrass Betty in her moment of philanthropic glory.

They arrive at the gala and if there are too many speeches for his liking, at least it's not the absolutely worst one of these he's been to. For one thing, the champagne selection more than makes up for the dull speeches and for another, it's a wonderful chance to see Betty in her element and with her new co-workers who are not all that new now.

He's careful to remain in the background as much as he can; it's her night and he wants her to shine.

He looks at her, in an unusually muted dark red dress the colour of fine wine; sees how bright her eyes sparkle under the chandeliers while speaking animatedly to kindly looking older men no doubt important in the climate change scheme of things. Watches her figure move beneath her dress and if she doesn't have as much elegance as Daniel's past girlfriends she makes up for it with a lot of poise and confidence, acquired only in recent years as far as he can remember.

Realises suddenly how quickly she's outgrowing Daniel, if she hasn't done so already.

The thought doesn't sit lightly with him.

She catches his gaze, excuses herself and comes to him, two glasses of champagne in hand. Her hair has definitely grown out to a more flattering length now, throwing soft shadows over her features and if she has learned the value of an anti-frizz serum, he's only able to notice the effect right at this moment.

She hands him a glass, smile wide and bright. "Thank you so much for coming with me Daniel."

"No problem. Couldn't miss seeing you in the limelight." They clink glasses. "It's a fantastic gala, Betty. You should be really proud of yourself."

She smiles a tad bashfully, glances away and he does the same. When he's ready to catch her eye again, her smile's gone. "I am. It's great. But … it kind of reminded me of Mode. Helping to put this together … it was something I learned there."

He nods; sips his champagne thoughtfully. "I'm glad Mode wasn't a complete waste of time for you then."

It's meant to be a joke and he's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. She catches it right away.

"Daniel, you know I loved working at Mode, right? It wasn't a waste of time at all. Don't even _begin_ to think it." He opens his mouth to protest but she doesn't believe him and frankly, neither does he. "I meant that in a good way, about learning how to do all this – at Mode."

He can almost hear the 'with you' hastily being replaced, then promptly discards it. "Mode gave me such a huge chance in this industry … without it I wouldn't be here."

How does champagne suddenly turn sour? "That was my father, Betty, not me. If it'd been up to me I wouldn't have hired you at all, remember?"

"I know _that_." He finds himself turning away but she grabs him for dear life. "What's the matter with you? I know you didn't hire me, just like you weren't happy about me being your assistant. But that was at first, that doesn't count. You were such a great boss to me after that, you encouraged me and helped me to get out there and go after what I really wanted. And best of all, you were my _friend_." She bites her lip, all pretence of light heartedness falling from her face. "You have no idea what that meant – what that still means – to me."

Her hand slides down his arm and suddenly she's holding his hand; squeezes it for reassurance but Daniel's not sure who she's trying to reassure. "Where's this coming from? Did something happen? Is it something I should know about?" Horror slides over her features. "Oh no, did something terrible happen and I've been too self-centred to see it and you haven't told me because you thought it'd ruin my night?"

Her eyes are so sympathetic, it's hard not to soften in the face of it. "No, nothing's happened." He squeezes her hand, only faintly registering how warm their hands are together. "Betty, I have no idea where this is coming from. I just …" He shrugs, drains the rest of his glass. "I have no idea."

"Well, me neither. You're talking crazy and I haven't even teased you about your hair yet."

She reaches out to touch his hair and he mock pulls away. It makes both of them laugh and just as rapidly as it came, his bad mood disappears.

He puts it down to the potency of the champagne.

He thinks he's right when she starts giggling and teasing him about his hair, eyes all sparkling and radiant and wow, he sure has drunk enough for the night.

He's still holding her hand or she's holding his, he doesn't know which way is up or down. Notices how warm and soft it is and promptly wants to toss his glass away because clearly, he's had way, way too much to drink.

Thankfully (or not), they're interrupted by the gala photographer. Daniel later decides that he hates her for no reason.

"Ms Suarez, do you want a picture with your gorgeous man?"

When Daniel doesn't answer (he's too busy trying not to snort into his champagne without choking), Betty has to intervene and take the brunt of the misunderstanding.

"Oh no, he's not gorgeous. I mean, he is. I mean, not that he isn't, because come on – but no, he's a man." She halts, reddens and takes a deep breath. "I meant, of course he is a _man_, clearly, a – man. What I meant was, he isn't my man. But yes, we'd love a picture."

The poor photographer looks so bewildered Daniel almost feels sorry for her (almost). She laughs and they take a picture and it's his turn to tease Betty about her superior grasp of language because clearly, reporters are _so_ much better at expressing themselves more so than say, a chief editor of a fashion magazine does.

The next day, Amanda eagerly shows him the picture that's made it into the society pages. His eyes run quickly over the photo but he's distracted by the caption underneath,'Daniel Meade and friend' when it should be the other way round.

He tosses it into the recycling pile, disgusted. Clearly, no one sees Betty for who she really is; a talented, radiant individual any man worth his two cents would see. If the world was fair the caption would be the other way round, even a semi-emotional buffoon like Daniel can see that.

It's only later while he's eating lunch at his desk that he recalls the photo at all; remembers her somewhat uneasy smile in the soft light almost as bright and warm as the real thing, her arms linked around his. Doesn't know why her smile seems different to him; surely he's seen in a thousand times before?

The thought troubles him, so he dismisses it from his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**~ V ~**

The more he thinks about the gala (and he does catch himself thinking about it a lot) he realises it isn't about the picture but rather how people think about Betty.

It starts to infuriate him, the way everyone dismisses her. Doesn't anyone see her like he does, really see her, for how extraordinary she is?

He's still stewing about it when his cell rings. He glances at the caller id, smiles at the welcome interruption.

"Betty, I was just – "

She cuts him off, which she almost never does. But he hears the urgency and panic and knows right away something bad has happened.

For once he's sorry his instincts are right. She tells him in a rush that Ignacio's been taken to hospital; the paramedics think it's a heart attack but they can't be sure until the doctors have seen him. She has no idea why she's calling Daniel but she needs to tell someone and yeah, she and Hilda are in the ambulance at the moment and there's nothing to do but watch the paramedics monitor her dad and she thought calling Daniel would distract her but he definitely doesn't have to come over to Queens or anything.

He completely ignores this and after prying the name of the hospital out of her assures her Ignacio is going to be all right, everything's going to be all right and he's coming just as soon he's humanly able to.

She protests feebly for a moment or two but capitulates quickly. He can tell even now she's scared and only just holding it together. He knows Betty well enough to imagine her being strong for her sister and taking charge of the situation.

But he knows better than that, knows she's just as shaken as Hilda and so he wants to be there for her like she's always been there for him.

The moment he flips his cell closed, he goes into automatic pilot. He doesn't remember cancelling the rest of the day's meetings or rescheduling the next, doesn't remember snapping at Amanda when she asks why he's rushing out of the office but does remember apologising and explaining to her why.

He can't believe he'd been thinking himself in circles about a mere photo just moments ago.

* * * * *

As depressing as it sounds, Daniel knows his way around a hospital. He's used to the harshness of the atmosphere and the claustrophobic intensity of its walls; the morbid expectation that once someone comes in they'll never get out. He tries to suppress the churning feeling in his stomach, conjured from memories of his father dying in just such a place.

He finds her with Hilda, the sisters hunched together in the waiting area. He can't quite tell how traumatised Betty really is until she tears away from Hilda and flies into Daniel's arms as soon as he rounds the corner.

"Daniel." She begins sobbing into his chest almost immediately. It scares him badly; he's never seen her lose it like this before. She's so used to being strong for everyone around her, he sometimes wondered whether her friends and family notice anymore how vulnerable she can still be.

Well, Daniel notices, and sees, everything. At least, he flatters himself to think that he does.

He does his best to soothe her, makes comforting noises while Hilda looks on. He's also acutely aware Gio has just materialised out of nowhere with Justin in tow, both laden with coffee.

Daniel doesn't let her go until she untangles herself from him and watches in pained silence while she wipes the tears from her face. It's all messily done with the edge of her sleeves but he lets her be because he knows what she's feeling, sitting at the chasm of losing her father and not being able to do anything about it.

It's the most horrible feeling in the world.

It's only when her sniffling start to fade that Daniel feels comfortable asking about Ignacio. "Betty, is he –"

She shakes her head, but fresh tears well in her eyes. "They say we won't know until tomorrow."

He nods and remembered when it happened to him; his stomach churns to think of it happening now to Betty.

Gio passes around the coffee in a distracted manner that leaves no room for doubt about his anxiety. Daniel knows Gio has become a good friend to Ignacio, sharing a mutual love of food and this must be hitting him almost as hard as the Suarezes.

Daniel doesn't know what else he can do; knows all too well that the brutal truth is, there is nothing they can do but wait.

So he chooses a seat with the family, and waits. She doesn't react when he takes her hand in his and if he thinks he feels a slight squeeze in response, he doesn't say anything about it.

* * * * *

Kindly doctors come and go, keeping them apprised of Ignacio's progress. Daniel's cell rings once which annoys the hell out of him and he brusquely switches it off. Later when he calms down, he finds it's Amanda letting him know she's taken care of all his meetings and commitments and to not worry about coming into work and also, she kind of really liked Ignacio's empanadas and wants her to let Betty know she'll be thinking of Ignacio.

He curses his insensitivity for the next half an hour, which doesn't help when he has nothing to do but wait and think.

He doesn't know how much time passes but one minute everyone seems to be stiff with worry and the next Hilda's slumped against the wall cradling Justin in her arms and Gio's pacing the waiting room intent on wearing a hole in the floor.

It's only then he realises Betty's gone.

He jerks to attention, scans the waiting area. Opens his mouth to ask Gio where she is but Gio beats him to the punch and responds that he doesn't know.

Daniel's instinct to not panic bears fruit when he finds her in an empty room a few doors down. She's gazing at something on the street below, silhouetted by light from the streetlamps outside. To say the room is eerie is the understatement of the century.

But what really catches him out – momentarily at least – is suddenly realising just how much Betty has changed from the girl he once knew. Doesn't know when it began or when he'd stopped noticing, but one moment she's the happy, playful assistant he remembers and the next she's, well, _this_.

No longer a girl with a dream, but woman with hopes, desires and ambitions to fulfil. She's a woman and a complex, interesting one at that.

He swallows this down; it's useless to him right now.

"Betty?" He bites down on the 'are you okay' because even he knows she's not okay at the moment. She won't be okay until she knows for sure Ignacio's going to be all right.

He steps gingerly into the room, hopes he's being as sensitive as he should be. "If you want to talk, I'm here. I'm right here."

He can't tell whether she heard him because she doesn't respond; as far as he's concerned she might as well be a statue, as still and quiet as the room they're standing in.

He resists the urge to shuffle on the spot. Her silence is slowly starting to freak him out. He's so used to seeing exuberance and liveliness bubble from her and this – this silence – he doesn't know how to deal with _this_.

He's on the verge of speaking again when she breaks the stillness.

"I can't go through this again. I lost my mom and … I can't do it again. Be strong for them. I can't. It's too hard."

The most excruciating thing about this is that he can make no absolute assurances. He can't lie and say everything's going to be okay because not everything turns out okay. Crap happens because the world's unfair and in the scale of unfairness this would be monumentally unfair, but that wouldn't stop it from happening, if it does.

He has no idea how to help, how to be there for her the way she was there for him when his father died.

And then realises that's _how_ she helped. She was there for him when he needed her friendship the most and not even in an overly dramatic way. Just the thousand and one small touches of friendship that got him through the day that, at the time, he hadn't realised what she was doing.

Well, if she can do that for him, he surely can have a stab at doing it for her.

He draws closer to her but she continues to gaze out onto the street below. He gently places a hand on her shoulder, wants to let her know he's there. For a long moment she doesn't react; doesn't move for so long Daniel starts feeling foolish and makes to withdraw his hand.

But just as it slides away, she grabs and holds onto it, tight. Doesn't turn around but makes a strangled noise which he interprets as the beginnings of a breakdown and before he knows it he's got his arms about her waist, murmuring a mantra in her ear that's half-lie, half-wish. "He'll be okay, I know he will. He'll be okay."

Afterwards when he has time to think about it, he can't believe the single mindedness with which he'd gone about being there for her. He'd surprised himself but only knew at the time that she was miserable and he'd wanted – no, needed – to make her feel better at any cost.

He doesn't want to admit that by doing so, he had felt better too.

* * * * *

The waiting doesn't stop until morning, when the doctor wakes Betty, Hilda and Justin up to deliver the good news, that Ignacio will make a full recovery although the rehabilitation will be a long one.

There's happiness and rejoicing in the way only the Suarezes can express. Amidst the flurry of hugs and kisses and tears Daniel slithers to the side, content to watch the celebration. The family's unfettered joy seems too intimate for him to share.

Betty detaches herself from Justin and comes to Daniel with dancing eyes. She clears her throat a bit awkwardly, but maybe he just imagines it. "Thank you Daniel, for being here. You have no idea what it meant to me. To us."

Saying 'you're welcome' seems a tad too trite, so he settles for a cute smile and a hug.

Her joy is infectious and he finds himself grinning like a lunatic. He's more relieved than he can express that her father's pulled through, but it scares him to realise that her happiness means so much to him now.

When exactly had that happened?


	6. Chapter 6

**~ VI ~**

It's three months after Ignacio's brush with death and things have finally settled down. Ignacio's back home cooking up a storm over the sometimes too-loud protests of his daughters, but try as they might he's determined to live his own life.

Daniel has to admire Ignacio for that; wonders why he can't do the same.

His realisation at the hospital troubles him; has done so for the past few months. At first his thoughts had been filled with helping the Suarezes in any way he could, small touches like he remembered Betty doing for him thousands of times before that have only just now hit home.

He doesn't know when it starts, but his actions become increasingly guided by WWBD (what would Betty do?). Or more accurately, what she expects the more perfect version of him to do.

It's how he comes up with the idea of putting his town car at Betty's disposal, ferrying her between Manhattan and Queens during the week. She's a little indignant at first but quickly sees the advantages of the plan, although she only accepts his offer after he puts his foot down.

The flipside of all his thoughtfulness is that he doesn't see her as much as he used to and for the first couple of weeks he refuses to admit that he kind of misses her constant presence in his life. But when he catches himself wondering what Betty's doing in mid-conversation with the head honcho of a potentially huge advertising client of Meade, he's forced to admit that yes, he misses her.

It isn't as if Daniel has no other friends but it isn't the same. He misses the way she knows him almost better than he does himself and what's more, misses the feeling that she's painstakingly introducing him to the better person he can be one day.

He tries brushing his uneasiness off as he watches Manhattan melt into the skyline. He's on the way to Queens tonight to participate in "a special celebratory feast" prepared by Ignacio himself as a thank you to everything he'd done to help them out. Never mind that Daniel doesn't need thanking but Ignacio had insisted and who was he to say no to a recently recovered cardiac patient?

When he's shown into the happy Suarez home he's relieved to see Ignacio on his feet again; Daniel had missed the older man's gentle ways. He's glad for her family's sake although his relief is mostly for Betty because he remembers her every word, every gesture, every expression at the hospital and knows he doesn't ever want to see that ever again.

She's as different to that Betty as she can be tonight though; all warmth and smiles and laughter and it's clear she isn't going to let her second chance with her father slip through her fingers any time soon.

She's wearing an unusual combination of a blue wrap dress with a cardigan that wouldn't look out of place at a Picasso exhibition. Touches of colour are always there in her wardrobe but what catches Daniel's eye tonight is how well the outfit becomes her in the soft, muted light of the Suarez home.

They sit rather randomly around the family table; there's a festive feeling in the air although he shouldn't be surprised. Maybe it has something to do with the streamers and balloons and what Daniel hazards to guess are hand made decorations that look both old and hideous enough to have been treasured efforts of either Betty or Hilda (even he knows that anything of Justin's would never look so awful). Wisely, he keeps his opinions to himself.

Being included in something so private and intimate makes Daniel uneasy and slightly giddy at the same time. He's never been able to shake the desire to be part of a warm, happy family and to be included with Betty's, even if it is for one night only, is like living on the edge of a dream.

She's retelling the story about how Daniel had thought playing Guitar Hero would be a good way to bond the team at a Meade retreat but which instead started a brawl that left three sub-editors in hospital, when it hits him.

He's right in the middle of his second empanada with his mouth uncomfortably full, smiling as he listens to Betty telling her story. He doesn't remember what she's saying, only remembers gazing at her smile in the amber and auburn light and her eyes dancing and then seeing, really _seeing _her for the first time. It's then, and only then that he realises.

She's beautiful. Really, truly, beautiful.

He's always thought of her as beautiful but perhaps had never _felt _it until now, not like this. He's never felt it in his bones and skin and face and hair and every shifting particle that is and will be him like he does now; doubts he's ever felt quite like this before.

And that's when it hits him, well and truly hits him like a trillion tonnes of bricks that's always been there, ready to be dropped on him at this very moment. It had been staring him in the face for goodness knows how long and he had never _seen_. God, he is such a moron sometimes because it's obvious to him now he's seeing her for the first time in a long time.

He's in love with her.

Betty.

His Betty.

He grips the edge of the table, swallowing panic down along with his empanada. As far as epiphanies go, the timing of this one sucks big brass balls.

This is not happening. Not here, not now. No, no, no, no. Not now.

Maybe if he refuses to acknowledge it, it'll go back into the stupid box where stupid Pandora came from.

He has no problems with his feelings, but even putting aside the fact that Betty's always felt like a sister to him, he'd bet his life she's always thought of him as a brother. So no, Daniel's brain, no. This is not happening.

Swallowing his rising panic whilst laughing at a joke Justin's just cracked turns out to be the hardest thing he's ever done. It doesn't help that every fibre of his being hums with the realisation, so much so that while half of him wants to make a run for it to the west coast the other half wants to fling himself across the table, grab her and –

"Daniel?" She's chewing on the remnants of a taco while poking at her salad, looking at him with concern. It shouldn't be attractive, but it is.

He is in such deep trouble right now.

"You have 'I'm panicking but trying really hard not to show it' face. Are you okay?"

He fervently hopes she can't read his 'I'm in love with you but can't say it because it's a sucky realisation and it'll ruin our friendship' face. "No, why?"

She carefully puts down her fork. Maybe his voice rising about eight octaves above normal gives him away, maybe not. He may never know. "Yes you are, don't lie to me. You're now making your 'panic with a side of crazy' face that you have when you're trying not to show it but it's slowly starting to freak you out like you want to jump through the window and you totally would, except you'd, you know, die or at least be seriously injured. I know you. Come on, spill it."

"I do _not _have panic face." He's painfully aware how stupid and panicky he sounds but given the choice of being thought an imbecile or admitting the truth, he'd take the former.

Of course she's right, he _is _panicking but if she ever finds out why it's going to be The End, thanks for playing, goodnight. "You don't know all my faces. I have faces … many faces … you don't know."

This is ridiculous. He sounds ridiculous, and judging from the faces around him, they all think he's being ridiculous too.

Betty's fork makes a rather loud clanging sound as it crashes onto the plate. "Ah, I kinda do. Hazards of being your assistant for three years. I've had to do things we both don't want to mention ever again." She's got that look in her eyes now; the one she gets when she's bracing for a fight but not really because she isn't actually angry but just wants to goad Daniel into betraying himself because yeah, it's that easy for her to manipulate him (but at least he knows it).

He puffs his chest out. "You don't."

"I so do."

"You really don't, Betty."

"I think I do, _Daniel_."

"Children." Ignacio tries interjecting with little success.

"No, Papi please, I'm enjoying myself." Betty rolls her eyes at Hilda, but before she can make an appropriate response Daniel flies out of his chair.

"I'm – I'm sorry." His mouth is dry; mind racing with vague things he could potentially say if only his brain could string two functioning sentences together. "I need to … I just remembered … the Book."

"Huh?"

"That's right, I ah – I just remembered." She's completely not buying it and she knows that he knows she's not. Stupid, stupid best friend. "The Book. Something in The Book struck me, you know, as I was eating, something's … not right. I need to fix it before it goes to the printer tonight."

He's gesturing wildly with his hands which is apparently one of many tells when he's lying. It doesn't help when he remembers Betty's the one who told him that.

He can't take this anymore. He makes profuse apologies to Ignacio about basically sort of ruining a perfectly a good evening but it can't be helped, he needs to get back to the office to fix this and they should completely do it another time.

As far as getaways go, it's really, really quick; one minute he's sweating (whether imaginary or not) under the stares of the Suarez family and the next he's diving into the car. He probably could've given the road runner a run for his money.

It's only after the car starts driving away that he allows himself one look back at the house. Betty's at the front gate, gazing after him with an expression ambiguous enough to set his heart racing with probability and possibility.

Daniel sinks into the seat and buries his head in his hands, automatically reaches into the mini-fridge at the back of the car.

He is in so much trouble right now.


	7. Chapter 7

**~ VII ~**

Daniel reverts to his baser instincts and decides that the most logical thing for him to do is to avoid Betty at all costs.

He knows it's not the brightest idea in the history of Daniel, doesn't dwell on the fact that he's in his late thirties but still feels compelled to run away like a scared little man-boy when things get confusing.

He buries himself in work, avoids her phone calls and while it's easy at first, it gets exponentially harder as her messages pile up and he fields questions from Amanda asking him what's up in 'Detty land'. The whole thing is like the mess when he tries to cook omelettes from scratch which is to say, hard as heck to clean up.

When he's sure he's alone Daniel secretly listens to all Betty's messages, ranging from concern to hostility then back to worry again. He finds himself looking around corners before entering rooms because he knows her and if she wants to hunt him down and talk badly enough, she'll find a way.

His life becomes almost impossible when even his mom weighs in, demanding to know why he's not talking to Betty. She'd apparently heard it from Betty herself who had called her in a fit of concern about Daniel and at any other time his heart may have melted with all the concern and the caring.

But as it is it lands him an uncomfortable appointment – lunch with his mother and if past experience has taught him anything it's to prepare for a bunch of disconcerting questions about things she really doesn't need to know.

He's right; there isn't so much as a 'how are you' before she starts interrogating him.

"Mom, for the last time, there's nothing wrong. I'm just … really busy, that's all. I'm not avoiding her, we're not having a fight and I _didn't _do anything wrong. Now can we talk about something else?"

"No. I don't believe you." She declares flatly, staring him down with a steely gaze.

"Well, tough. That's the truth." He tries to look offended but can't muster enough righteous indignation to pull it off.

"You might be able to use that tone with your minions but remember who you're talking to." She coolly sips sparkling water from her glass, watches him with appraising eyes.

Apparently his eyes are the spitting image of hers but Daniel has a hard time believing that right now.

"My goodness." She suddenly leans back against the chair, small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"What?"

She carefully puts her glass down, leans in like she's going to impart a secret. Her smile's disappeared but a suspicious twinkle lurks in her eyes. "You've finally realised."

"Realised what?"

"You know what." Ah no, he doesn't. "Yes you do. Remember Daniel, lying to mothers? Doesn't work. We can tell."

"Okay … what can you tell?" If this was an interrogation he'd be asking for a lawyer about now but seeing as this is mother, he has no such basic rights at his disposal.

"Daniel, do you really think I can't see it in your face?"

He swallows hard and decides he hates his face sometimes. "My face?" He scoffs, shoving a thick piece of steak into his mouth. "Mom, I have no idea what you're talking about. Make some sense."

"You're the one who's not making sense. You've realised you have feelings for Betty and now you don't know what you're going to do about it."

He applauds himself for not choking just in time. Stupid medium rare steak done to char-grilled perfection. "No, I … don't." He looks around wildly for a glass of wine but then recalls that he always refrains from ordering alcohol with his mom but wishes he isn't quite as sensitive a son at the moment.

He really wants to liquor up, and fast. "Betty? That's crazy. She's just a friend, we're almost – practically family. I don't like her – I mean, of course I like her but not like that. She's a friend, a really good –"

"Daniel, she's a wonderful girl." She quickly turns her attention back to her salad, adds slyly. "She feels the same way you know."

"Mom."

"I'm just saying. In case you were wondering."

"I'm not, and can we please not do this right now? I'm not comfortable discussing this … with my mother." It's the first words of truth he's spoken the whole lunch.

Impressively, his mother stops torturing him; starts talking about shares and stocks and Hot Flash instead and it's a testament to his confusion that he rather hear about menopausal monthly than think about feelings and Betty and other sweaty palm issues.

He finds himself slowing unwinding but then a horrible thought occurs to him.

What if Betty, like his mom, had seen what is apparently really obvious on his face and that's the reason she's bombarding him with messages?

His grilled to perfection steak suddenly sticks in his throat.

* * * * *

Lunch with his mother clears nothing up but does make him realise avoiding Betty is probably not the best course of action, mainly because he can't do it forever and also, it's rude.

He resolves to call her back but she beats him to the punch. She's waiting in his office when he gets back to work and tells him they need to talk before he's even opened his mouth to explain. She's not interested though, just wants to know whether he's free for dinner although she informs him that Amanda's already cleared his schedule so as far as she knows, he's free.

Which explains why he's wearing a hole around a tree at the edge of a small square a few blocks from Meade, waiting for her at dusk. He watches the sun dip past the horizon, though of course he's doesn't look directly at it because even he knows he can't do that without sustaining serious injury.

"Hey." She's somehow looking cuter than before in a cheerful red polka dot dress with matching beret and a funky black jacket, which wouldn't have assaulted his fashion sense if not for the striped multicoloured scarf she's teamed it with. Talk about a walking rainbow.

She gives him a curt hello, drags him to a small granite pavilion covered with vines and it's really quite picturesque but she's staring at him like she's about to hurl.

He notices, inopportunely, that he's still got his fingers wrapped around hers and decides that if she doesn't tear them away he's well within his rights to not let them go. He's determined to not notice how warm or soft her hand is in his though. Maybe he should think sad thoughts.

Puppies looking sad. Puppies not having enough to eat. Homeless puppies. Puppies dying.

No, that's too sad.

"Daniel, are you already not listening to me?"

"What? No, I'm listening. Of course I'm listening."

He can tell she doesn't believe him. "I was saying, I needed to talk to you. The way you ran out of my house the other night –"

"I needed to get the Book –"

She shuts him down gently. "Daniel it's me, remember? I know it wasn't anything to do with work. Your face … It's like you saw – realised – something during dinner. Did you?"

He swallows once, twice, three times; prepares for Armageddon because she must know, must have seen his panic face and _knows_.

Crap.

"I mean, I _know _you. You saw something that totally freaked you out and now you're not speaking to me."

Maybe without realising it, she's standing a little too close to him, so close he's able to smell her, a mixture of roses and strawberries and something else.

"Daniel, we've always told each other everything. And I don't want that to stop, ever."

"Me neither. I –"

"Great." He sees her swallowing; holds his breath for the inevitable. "I was looking for the right moment to talk to you about this but now you're freaking out and if I don't do it now I'm afraid things will spiral and I don't want that. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

"I'm … not sure." It's hard to tell; he doesn't know what _he's _talking about half the time. "What are _you _talking about?"

He squeezes her hand but she pulls away. "Oh boy." She tries laughing it off but he sees through her like glass. "It's nothing, it's nothing. I don't – I mean, it isn't a big deal or anything. I don't know what I was thinking. I was – I was just going to talk to you about this thing at work but you know what? It isn't a big deal. Forget I said anything, I'm totally overreacting. You know me. Craaaazy Betty!"

He does know her, well enough to know she's lying.

"Wow, is that time? I have to go. I totally need to go. I have this deadline and I haven't even got half of article done and my editor's going to kill me, it's really too bad, I think I'll have to take a rain check on dinner –"

He grabs her by the shoulders, gently but firmly. "Betty it's me, remember? I know you and I know that wasn't what you wanted to talk about. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm right here."

"Right." She turns her back on him and for an excruciating moment he's frozen in time. But then she takes a deep breath, faces him again and it's only then he realises she's practically green. Not only that, she looks physically ill and in that instant his mind clears; all confusion from the last few days chased away by concern. "What is it Betty? Come on, you can tell me."

"Um, I know. I think … I know that."

She directs them to a bench, feels her hand tensing in his and it's like she's holding on for dear life. "Let me preface this by saying it's kind of been building for a really long time, so gradually but lately it's been really hard. I mean, I've always thought – we're really good friends, aren't we? I mean, in a way, you're kind of sort of my best friend."

"Me too." He struggles to not smile too much, is careful to add softly. "What's this about?"

She rushes on. "You know with band aids, you either rip them off really quickly or do it slowly? I've always thought it's best to do it quickly. I mean, it hurts a lot but then you start recovering right away. And this … what I'm about to say … it's kinda like the band aid and could potentially be worse, but Daniel, can you promise me that whatever you hear, you won't hold it against me? That we'll still be friends?"

He promises, neglects to add that he'll promise her anything she wants. She takes a deep breath, eyes wide with fear or hope he can't tell.

And then tells him, point blank, in a very un-Betty like manner, that she loves him.

She loves him. She's _in love _with _him_. He's fairly sure his heart skips several beats.

She begins to babble, leaking nervous energy like a natural disaster. Isn't it funny? She kind of sort of has feelings for him which is both awesome and awkward in a really scary way because he's her best friend and she knows this is a huge shock but he must have seen, right, even a little bit, which is why he freaked out at her dad's house? And can he not look like he's about to drown a puppy because she really, really needs to know she hasn't just destroyed the best friendship she's ever had?

The desired response doesn't come and so she starts again, slightly more composed. She knows him well enough to not expect The Feeling to be reciprocated; only hopes he doesn't freak out and they can get past it so it doesn't affect their friendship too much. She's careful to emphasise this and if she repeats herself it's only because he's too shell shocked to even exhibit his now infamous panic face.

And then there's stilted silence because she's finally run out of words and frankly, he's still out because he can't even think at the moment.

He needs a drink right now, genetic alcoholism be damned.

Logically he knows he should be happy, happy and ecstatic and overjoyed but he's all and none of these things. As usual she's done all the work, taken one for the team and instead of leaping off the bench and scooping her into his arms, he's sitting in a stew of rising panic.

He can't breathe for the panic coursing through his body.

"Daniel? Say something. Please _say_ something. You're scaring me."

Words jumble in his brain and the world becomes unbearably claustrophobic; he doesn't know which way is up or down. Despite what she'd said earlier she looks just on the wrong side of crestfallen at his prolonged silence; his stomach clenches knowing he's the reason she looks like that.

He wants to tell her everything, but before he can she stands and tears away from him. "Oh, that's okay. It's a huge … shock. Of course you'll need time to, you know, deal and all that. Anyway I just … I don't want this to affect our friendship, that's all." She's using that high pitched voice she uses when she feels like crawling into the nearest pothole and dying a quick, painless death.

"It won't." But the other words, the ones that would put both of them out of misery, stick in his throat and even he can see that this is turning into one giant steaming bowl of crap.

He just needs to say them, those three words that will turn night into day. But he doesn't.

She's pale and vulnerable in the waning light, is maybe even on the verge of tears. "Okay then, I guess, I just … I need to go."

And with that she's gone and it's all really ironic because she's the one making the quick getaway this time, leaving him standing there like the idiot he is.

He watches her disappear around the corner, leaves swirling about her silhouette like a vortex. Has no idea why he doesn't just run after her and tell her how he really feels.

But he doesn't, just sinks against the railing and tries to understand what the heck just happened.


	8. Chapter 8

**~ VIII ~**

He finds himself fixating on Betty's face that day, more specifically, her devastated expression at his non-reaction and the more he thinks about it the more unforgivable his behaviour becomes.

He's scared; knows he's in the grip of terror but of what exactly he can't pinpoint.

Maybe he's terrified of being happy, of being the 'plus one' of someone who's integrity and intelligence transcends his own or just plain scared of disappointing the one person who's seen him at his worst but still believes the best of him.

Most likely he's terrified of all of the above. Realises the dread of not having his feelings reciprocated is nothing compared to the fear of having those feelings returned.

Oh god, what if he feels this way forever?

He's in his office with his head on the desk, thinking seriously about using it to literally knock some sense into himself. The possibility of damaging brain cells shouldn't be too high given he clearly doesn't have that many to begin with.

He's only aware someone's come into the room when he sees a shadow looming over him through the glass tabletop.

"What are you looking at?" Amanda's been one of his assistants for a couple of years now (he remembers Betty's flush of pleasure when he'd told her he needed not one, but two people to replace her, but that memory isn't exactly making him feel better right now). She'd proven surprisingly competent and the combination of Betty's training and Amanda's natural aptitude for pleasing produces an assistant who's actually pretty cool to have around. Usually.

But not today. Today he just wants to crawl underneath his desk and live off Chinese take out for the rest of his life.

He brushes her off. "Ah, nothing." He hopes his face isn't red from resting on the table. "Did you want me to sign something?"

"No, I'm just bored." She quirks an eyebrow at him, plants herself at the edge of his desk. He wonders idly whether the cleaners ever have to wipe it down given the number of times she sits on it without invitation. "And you looked like you could use some company."

"I'm – I'm actually really busy." He notices his desk is completely devoid of paperwork. "Don't you have some filing to do?"

"I don't file. The interns do that. And besides, even I can tell you're not busy, you were staring at your shoes which, by the way, _fab_." She leans in, eyes hungry. "I heard from a sort of but not really fat birdy that trouble's up in tweedy land."

"I'm sorry?" It's safe to say he has absolutely no idea what she's talking about.

"The B to your D. She said the 'L' word and now you're _totally_ wigging."

He can't believe he's getting this from Amanda of all people. "She _told_ you?"

"I went by her place to check up on her dad's churro things and she would've totally told me, except I heard it from Justin. I don't think they're related." She shakes her head, leans in like she's going to tell him a state secret which frankly, would be more entertaining.

"Look Daniel, I know she's a fatty and it's potentially not cool to be with one, but Marc does it and Cliff's really grown on me. So from one hot person to another, it's okay. Besides, I totally think they'll be the must have accessory next season."

The wicked smile drops from her face and suddenly she's the vulnerable Amanda, lurking underneath the thin shell of a vain girl. "I think you're being totally uncool to B. I've seen you guys doing really boring stuff together and I don't know, it's kinda cute, except when you're wearing that ugly pink tie and she's wearing red and the whole thing totally clashes. But … a girl can go her whole life and not find someone to do boring stuff with. So you're lucky Daniel. You're lucky to have someone to do boring stuff with."

Maybe she's found his light switch, maybe it's been there all along just waiting to be triggered but something definitely falls into place. Pieces of a life half-lived, maybe, until now.

He can't believe he's about to say this. "You're right." He springs from his chair, sending it flying into the wall. "You know what? You're absolutely right. Thanks." He throws his jacket on and runs out, but not before flinging his arms around her. "Thanks Amanda. I – "

He doesn't have time to finish the sentence because he's already half way to the lift.

* * * * *

He doesn't want to take any chances and so hurries to Betty's building right away; doesn't know which floor she's on but the cute receptionist tells him after a few well directed smiles, even buzzes him through security when he asks her to (nicely).

What? He's using his flirting for a good cause and as far as he's concerned the ends justify the means.

Betty's floor is frenetic and busy, with none of the minimalist chic of Mode or the sumptuous richness of Meade. She's in her element here, just like he's always pictured it.

He scans the floor, sees her desk in the corner and marches boldly past the curious glances of her co-workers before he has a chance to back out. His hands haven't sweated so much since he fronted a packed meeting to fight off a hostile takeover of Meade a year ago and he still hasn't recovered from _that_.

"Betty, we need to talk."

She starts with surprise and yanks off her headphones; glances around to check if anyone's noticed which, unfortunately, they have. "What are you _doing_ here?" She hisses.

He's trying really hard to be inconspicuous but knows he's failing badly. The co-head of Meade publications walking (okay, storming) into a busy New York magazine tends to raise eyebrows.

"I need to talk to you."

"Now?"

"Yes."

She sighs and stands; throws a hideous looking pashmina-like thing around her shoulders and pushes him toward the lift. (He's in love, not blind. It looks like she's wearing a carpet that Hello Kitty puked all over.)

They almost make it out of the building without incident. At the lift they're accosted by a statuesque brunette in a stunning emerald and gold dress. She would not have been out of place at Mode or Elle. "Hi, Carolina Ramirez, entertainment editor."

"Daniel Meade." It only occurs to him while they're shaking hands that there's a fifty-five percent chance he may have slept with her at some point. He thinks either Paris or Milan but can't worry about that now. "I'm sorry, we were just going –"

"Of course." He swears he sees her wink at Betty, but can't be sure. He is sure however, that Betty flushes rather cutely in response. "I won't keep you. And … I guess I'll talk to _you_ later, Betty."

Daniel flatters himself to think he'd been reasonably composed before, but the interruption makes his insides somersault again uncontrollably. Talking to Betty had never been so heart attack inducing.

He half pushes, half guides her across the road, buying himself time to think about what he's going to say.

"Daniel, what is it?" She bats his arm away. "I'm in the middle of a deadline. You can't just drag me out of work just to apologise to me."

He lets her go. "I wasn't going to apologise."

"You weren't? I thought –"

"What? No – I mean, I'm going to apologise." He's making no sense even to himself. "Of course I'm going to, but … that's not why I'm here."

"Then why _did_ you come?"

He feels like one of those hot air balloons that suddenly loses pressure and starts plummeting to a fiery death. He's out of breath and at the same time distracted by the rise and fall of her chest (no, not _that_ way).

"Betty, I am so sorry about the way I reacted the other day. It was completely inexcusable. It's easily the most despicable thing I've ever done and you and I both know that's saying something. You're well within your rights to never speak to me again." His smile's all tentative and jittery; he feels like he's going to jump out of his skin any moment. "But I really hope you do, because I'd really miss you if you never spoke to me again. I'm sorry Betty, I'm really … sorry."

As far as apologies go (and there have been a good many made by him), it's quite a good one considering it's done on the fly. She squints at him like she's measuring his worth, blinks and breathes and swallows and does it all over again and still doesn't speak.

Finally she smiles. It's a wane, tired sort of smile but a smile nevertheless. "I don't know about it being your most despicable moment. Personally, I'd rank the whole 'Tornado Girl' episode as a lower point on the Daniel Meade despicable spectrum."

Oh, right. He'd completely forgotten about that.

They're staring at each other and in any other situation the silence would be fine, but it's plain awkward now because of all the stuff he's going to say (if or when he gets the words out).

She smiles, pulls away but stops half way and turns around. "Do you remember you told me I was beautiful once? Outside my apartment, after the Mode party one year?" He nods at the change of subject. "Do you still mean it?" She adds softly, so softly he almost doesn't catch it. "That I'm beautiful?"

Maybe his face breaks, maybe it doesn't; he can't be sure. Only knows that he pauses for just a moment too long; long enough to allow her to start walking away again and he realises if he lets her go this time it may just be the last time that happens.

But he isn't going to let that happen, not today.

He hurries after her, grabs her arm gently but firmly. Blurts with just the right amount of desperation. "Betty, of course I meant it."

He takes a shaky breath because he knows that here and now of all the possible places for this to happen is _the_ time, _the_ place. He takes her hands in his, dares finally to look into her eyes. They're watery and full, brimming with expectation.

"Of course I meant it … Betty, I mean it every day you're in my life." He feels like he's about to collapse in a cold sweaty heap but ploughs on regardless of life and limb. "Your friendship has meant so much to me. All these years and all the stupid stuff I did and you … you're still here. With me. Here."

"I am."

"And … you know a lot of things have changed, right? With us."

He sees her relaxing and starts feeling the same, only processes weeks or months later that he's only able to do so because she's relaxing; realises it'll always be an endless cycle like that between them.

"I know. We've both changed so much, and … it's good. It's great. Your friendship's meant so much to me Daniel; I couldn't have done any of this without you. I only hope you won't let what I said before ruin things between us and –"

"Don't apologise. Don't ever apologise about that. Because that day ... I forgot to say something back to you."

She looks genuinely perplexed. "What?"

"That … that I feel the same way." He swallows, hard. "About you obviously, not about … me." He sees her shock, thinks there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll pass out from the suspense. But he won't let himself because this is what she must've faced a few days ago and if this is part of his punishment, then the least he can do is man up and … not faint.

"Daniel, are you …" She blinks, hard. "Are you saying what I _think_ you're saying?"

There's a dramatic pause, but it's only because he's edging closer to her, peering down into sparkling eyes that right at this moment seem to be lighting up only for him. "If you think I'm saying that I love you, Betty Suarez, then you're right. I love you. And I'm sorry it's taken me this long to say it or admit it."

She grins and it's all the response he's ever going to need. He leans in slowly, gingerly, like the moment is about to fracture at any moment.

It _does_ fracture; fractures when their heads collide in a decidedly unromantic fashion. She yelps in pain and if this isn't such a serious moment he would have laughed. As it is, he's more chagrined than anything else.

They both apologise at the same time, stop then engage in an awkward staring contest because he guesses neither of them know what to do next.

But then she smiles, snorts and then finally roars with laughter. She's in the middle of a giggling fit by the time he comes to himself and he can't decide whether it's a good or bad thing that the idea of kissing him sends her into a fit (albeit a happy one). He's never had that reaction from a woman before.

"Ah, Betty –" His pained expression does nothing to curb her giggling and he's forced to watch, hands on hips, waiting patiently for the fit to subside.

"I'm so – I'm so sorry, I just – I just –"

Even after her giggling subsides her eyes are still dancing; the effect is quite enchanting really when he remembers this moment later. The early afternoon sun gives her a glow that no dream could ever imbue and if Daniel's aware he's spouting utter nonsense he can forgive himself for it just this once, because he knows what this moment means to him and just how long it's taken for them to get here.

Her eyes are still dancing and bright when he kisses her.

It's everything and nothing like he's ever felt before; light and dark and night and day, thoughts and dreams flashing before his eyes. He feels her smile against his lips, thinks she tastes of sunshine and a future he hasn't dared to think about for a long time.

Kissing her is like coming home; the pot of gold at the end of an impossible rainbow, the crest of a high no drug can ever replicate.

He's surprised by how soft and smooth her skin is; he's never noticed it before. He can't stop his fingers tracing the outline of her jaw, caressing skin he's brushed so many times but never like this. His entire body tingles with the electricity of the moment and to say he's lost in it would be the understatement of the century.

He thinks (but isn't entirely sure) they only part when oxygen becomes a critical issue. She's flushed and breathless, all swollen lips and heated cheeks and his only thought now is that she's gorgeous and he never wants to be apart from her ever again.

(He also wants to check whether his hair looks okay but in the big scheme of things he's happy to let it slide, for now.)

"Um …"

She expresses it for the both of them. This time, he's the one to start chuckling.

"Yeah." Suddenly it's all about putting his hands in his pockets, although he discovers too late that he has, in fact, no pockets today. He settles for leaning awkwardly against a lamp post, acutely aware he looks completely ridiculous. It's not one of his smoother moments. "Some kiss, huh?"

His mock casual tone sends her into a fit of giggles. "You're such a dork!" But she flies into his arms like she's done a thousand times before but of course now it's completely different; remarkably, indisputably different and Daniel wouldn't want it any other way.

And just like that it seems, all the chaotic, shifting pieces of his life click and lock into place. Because of her.


	9. Chapter 9

**~ IX ~**

Daniel discovers that although his life isn't a fairytale by any stretch of the imagination, it does come pretty darn close sometimes.

Since that day there've been changes of course but in many other ways, things stay the same. Maybe it's because he and Betty are who they are now rather than the people they were back then; the playboy boss and the dorky assistant would never have been able to handle things this way.

Whether intentional or not they'd waited, growing into each other until they couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. And even though their relationship is still shiny and bright and new he knows in his bones that this thing with them, whatever it is – is the real thing.

(Baring any unforseen hiccups of course; it's entirely probable, knowing himself as well as he does, that he'll do something boneheaded along the way. But he has faith in her and faith that he'll do the best he can; it's the only thing he's always been able to give her.)

She doesn't melt immediately into a pile of excited Betty goo after the initial whirlwind of excitement leaves them. While she leaves him in no doubt she's ecstatic and excited and other words he has to secretly check in the dictionary, she's her own woman and being with him isn't as all-consuming as it once would have been. They both have jobs and lives that sometimes happen to be separate and given their friendship, she suggests they transition slowly and yeah, Daniel has to agree with _that_.

He knows she's scared; they both are, wouldn't be human otherwise. He thinks he's daunting a proposition for her, not because he's still one of the most eligible bachelors in New York (hey he's only quoting Mode's annual list) but because she's seen him in romantic action and boy, does that action _suck_. He's screwed up so many times he cringes knowing that not only was she a witness to every sordid detail of his history, it'd been more often than not that when crap hit the fan, she'd been the one to scrape it off the ceiling. So yeah, it makes him squirm like a sissy man.

So they both have things to get over and the going slow idea is a good one, initially. After four weeks though, he's completely over it. (The taking it slow part, not the Betty part.) And being Daniel, he's not so subtle about making it known.

He's just flown back into New York after a business trip to the west coast and she's the first thing he sees when he passes the gates at JFK. She flies into his arms as soon as she sees him and if they're being slightly silly about the hugging and the clinging it's only because they only have about four years of that to catch up on (amongst other things) and besides, they've always hugged. It's one of the things he fell in love with.

She's happy despite the early hour and lack of breakfast; he can tell by her smile and the hundred mile an hour chatter only she can maintain on minimal caffeine. Daniel leans back against the seat of the car as it whisks them to Betty's office and marvels at the early morning sunlight hitting her hair, bathing her in a golden glow.

He's only been away for two days and yet, he'd missed her. Badly. And yeah, he's a sap, a big, gigantic, Daniel-shaped sap – and proud of it.

He shakes himself out of it by broaching what he thinks will be a slightly sensitive subject. He'd been thinking incessantly about it which is what always happens when he has too much time to think.

"Betty, I'm not sure I like the whole 'slow and steady' idea anymore."

She makes an unintelligible sound. To be fair she's in the middle of re-tying his tie which he'd hastily thrown around his neck three seconds before landing. She hasn't done that since her assistant days and had been careful after she quit not to do anything too assistant-like like that. He'd missed it and suspects she did too (the taking care of him part, not the assistant part), which is why he loves it now when she can't help herself doing small things like this.

He stills her hands. "Did you hear what I just said?"

She frowns, looks up at him through still freshly cut bangs. They're soft and airy and frame her face really nicely and despite the more grown up style she looks more girl-like than ever; realises anew how vulnerable she still can be. "You've squished your tie so it's all crumply again. How many times have I told you not to squash it into your bag?" She puts the finishing touches, leans back to admire her handiwork. "And I thought we agreed slow and steady's the best way to go forward. As a –".

" – couple I know." He jumps in; knows she still hasn't wrapped her head around that particular change yet (not that he blames her). "But I don't think we need to be so cautious anymore. Think about it. We've had a month to get used to it. Even Hilda's stopped teasing us. I think it's time to … take it up a notch."

She smiles that small, secretive smile that's been just one of a million new things about her he's learned in the last month. He thought he'd known everything there was to know about Betty Suarez but it turns out there's probably a million more he's yet to see.

"And by taking it up a notch, what exactly do you have in mind?"

He shrugs, tries not to think about the one thing they've both danced around but haven't alluded to but _come on_, he can't deny it's at least part of why he wants to step it up. It's been a month and, well … a man has _needs_.

Not that it's all about the sex, but still, surely, there should be sex at some stage.

Right?

"You know _exactly_ what I mean." He impulsively folds himself against her, lightly brushing her knee with a practised hand. He's careful to only brush against her skin; the last thing he wants to do is pressure her but at the same time doesn't want to leave her in any doubt about his intentions. "I want to be with you. You know that."

He thinks it's adorable the way she reddens, fumbles with his tie once more even though it's perfectly done like it always is when she does it. Stutters a bit then decides sitting on her hands as far from him as possible and avoiding his eyes is the better course of action.

"Hey, look at me."

"I'm just scared, that's all." She blurts, meeting his eyes. "It's kind of a big step. I … I'm nervous about it. Believe me, I've thought about it … _a lot_."

And believe _him_, Daniel's thought about it a lot too, perhaps way too much for someone who's supposed to have been concentrating at a very serious advertisers meeting. Business and pleasure never mixed so badly.

"And I haven't …" She mumbles but he can just make it out. " … I haven't, you know, _been_ with … that many people."

Her vulnerability disarms him, every time. He reassures her the best way he knows how; gently reaches out and takes her hand. "Hey. This isn't about that. I don't want to pressure you. I'm just saying … I'm ready when you are. And that I'm crazy about you and will wait for as long as you need to, okay?"

She squeezes his hand and plants a kiss on his lips; rewards him with a shaky smile. "Thank you Daniel. I just … I need time. For things to settle down. To get used to this, us … everything. Don't think I don't want to … you know. I do, I really, god, I really do."

"Okay." He whispers; brushes bangs from her face before he kisses her and it's odd to realise anew that he really loves her. The realness of the feeling scares him but he swallows the panic down. He's learning and adapting and she's assured him hundreds of times he's on the right path and yes, he trusts her fully in this. "I'm not going anywhere. You know that, don't you?"

"I do Daniel. I do."

Her eyes shine; her hands creeping around him as she snuggles against his chest. He holds her tight, closes his eyes as she melts into him and he's so happy it really does feel like he's floating on that imaginary cloud nine. If that's the case, he never wants to come back down to earth.

They've seen each other at their best and worst moments and everything in between. What sets his heart racing is the anticipation that he'll get to share even more of those moments, with her.


	10. Epilogue

**~ EPILOGUE ~**

Daniel's rather cruelly awoken by the insistent crying of a baby who really, _really_ wants something.

God, babies. Why on earth had he been so keen on having them?

The crying simmers down to a curious gurgling and any other person would have been tricked into thinking the storm was over. But not Daniel; he knows this is a fake out that'll transition into all out screeching in precisely one to four seconds.

And … there it is.

He tumbles out of bed, trips over what he thinks is a baby bag covered with a trillion pink teddy bears and walks/falls/stumbles his way to the nursery to a cacophony of squeals. It sounds like a pig's been slaughtered except, it's not.

He looks down at the red faced baby in the cot and grabs the monitor by the change table.

"Ah honey … "

He's shouting even though he could've just used the baby monitor in his hand; he blames it on lack of sleep rather than abject stupidity. He's no workaholic by any standard of the imagination but it'd been an unusually busy week and being so rudely woken on a Saturday morning like this is, he concludes, just not fun.

Daniel isn't sure he's been heard until his wife replies through the monitor; he surmises from her disembodied voice that she's probably in the kitchen downstairs.

"She probably just needs changing again." Even through the crackling monitor, he can hear the impatience in her voice.

Right, of course. He approaches the cot again, peers over the side to watch his daughter's howling face. "Yeah, I think you're right."

His wife issues a string of reminders that he would find offensive, if they didn't help a lot. He's tempted to retort but she's ready for him. "Don't complain about changing nappies Daniel. Remember, _you're_ the one who didn't want to get a nanny."

She neglects to mention there was no way on god's green earth she wanted one either, but he's been in this marriage long enough to know how to pick and choose his battles and so wisely keeps sarcasm to himself.

He throws the baby monitor down, gingerly picking up his daughter. Even after three months, he can't stop marvelling at his life. He has a wife and a daughter. Daniel Meade has a _daughter_.

"Hey Rosa." He doesn't think playing with her little hands and feet nor speaking to her like an adult is silly at all. He's confident she's inherited her mother's smarts and none of her dad's boneheadedness. "Daddy's going to try to change your nappy … really badly. I'm going to –" He places her tenderly onto the change table, noting the putrid smell that's just been unleashed. " – to apologise in advance, because I suck at this and you're probably going to get some rash thing somewhere but your mom doesn't seem to want to do it and –" He's holding his breath. "– not that I blame her, so you're stuck with me and any discomfort you may feel as a result can be entirely blamed on my incompetence – oh god that stinks."

He takes an inordinate amount of time changing his daughter's nappy which he's happy to say, is more than he'd spend on his hair but less than cooking his infamous Spaghetti Bolognese out of a jar.

Still, the assault on his sense of smell's entirely worth it when Rosa's cries stop and her frown melts into a crinkly smile that sends his heart aflutter.

She does it to him every single time.

He leans in, whispers in confidence. He knows Betty finds his habit of carrying conversations with their daughter hilarious but that's not ever going to stop him. "You are the most beautiful thing, you know that? Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're beautiful. You'll be beautiful every day of your life."

He hopes he'll always be here to say it to her.

Betty's voice disrupts his rather soppy personal interlude. "Daniel, what's taking so long? Did you forget how to do it again? It's been three months, you really need to know this stuff."

"I'm done! I was just – never mind. We're coming down." He quickly finishes up, gives his daughter a quick kiss before scooping her up in his arms. Carries her downstairs one at a time, marvels at her tiny fingers and hands and feet and nose and eyes, eyes just the colour of Betty's in all their chocolate brown glory.

It turns out his wife's in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Daniel carries their daughter to her, gives her a quick kiss and even though she warns him to be careful carrying Rosa too closely to the stove, he laughs and because he does, she does too.

He realises he'll change a million nappies if it gives him the chance to have mornings like this one, a wife and daughter and their smiles to wake up to. He's happy to take the good with the bad, the beautiful with the ugly because … well, that's just the way it should be.

**[Finis]**

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_Author's note: And ... that's the end. Hope everyone enjoyed it! I had a blast writing what is unashamedly the fluffiest of fluff pieces but hey, we all like reading happy fics once in a while, right? Anyway, I'm so touched by all the feedback and reviews I've received, and very grateful that you took the time to give me your comments. Every single one is treasured. _


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